



WHERE THE PURPIf-TASSELED CORN-HEADS BOW 






IO>VA THE IJEAUTIFHI. 




IOWA'S TEMPLES 

Where the nation's Sabbath bceomcs a joy 
Ne'er follozved by regret. 



Scenes and 
Poems 



Fro??i the 



Wild Rose 
State 



BY WILLIAM J. PYLE 




IOWA SOUVENIR VOLUME 



THE COMMON PEOPLE ARE POETS ^ 



FORE NOTE 

I searclied tlie state for scenes tnat woula lairly represent the beauty or Iowa. 

Many of tkese cuts are original, some are selected. I nave sougnt to be fair 
to Iowa's great water courses, to her magnificent corn fields, to tne fine ricb har- 
vests of the great North-svest. For ivant of room I had to leave out some of the 
richest scenes of the state; her fine schools I could not mention, nor her great 
manufacturing interests. 

The contents of this book, save the copying of the scenes, are as free as God s 
sunshine or air. Use them any time, any way as you desire. If you can add to 
their swiftnfess of wing on errands of good I shall be glad. 

I her^jvy acknowledge the kindly help of friends, of Mr. nV illiam Bayless, 
a fine landscape photographer, and of my -wife and daughter m seeking to make 
my labor a pleasure. Yours most cordially, 

THE AUTHOR 



Copyright. 1911 W y n^ 

By Tlie Tor<li Press *^ '^, "^^^ 

OCT I 1914 

©CI.A379835 






i-o^^. 



I 




If I could have my way, 

I'd pour out love by oceans full ; 

Sky fulls of kindly smiles, 
I'd lead the lowliest, lonely soul 

To see the life worth-while. 
I'd put sparkle in each human eye 

And joy in each new day; 
I'd make the world a gladsome place. 

If I could have my way. 



A SIP OF SWEETNESS 




A sip of sweetness, he hands to me, 
From out the branches of the tree ; 
Like dripping- honey from the comb 
I find o'er and o'er, where'er I roam, 
THE SAME SWEET THINGS. 
And every day that shines, but brings 
New gifts direct from GOD. 



So, up thru branches, and shadowed leaves, 

Or out in the open. 

Where the sunlight breathes ; 

I would lift my praver like garland wreaths, 

IN THANKFULNESS TO HIM. 




Let me give a cheer for the ''OLD HOME STATE, 
Whose ci'ealth, through the years, I have seen; 

Let me drop a tear o'er the treasured bier. 
Of those who sleep ' iieath her green . 




MEADOW LARK 

loica's lilnsif Bos 

Comrade of My Childhood 



BEGIN THE DAY WITH A SONG 



It's a fancy I have. 

And I don't think I'm wrong- 
That the day will be brighter, 

If I begin with a song. 
It seems just the part 

That steam to engine doth play. 
It gives me a push. 

For the toil of the day. 

Really, it makes the sun shine 

Whether its cloudy or fair ; 
And it makes me feel 

I had strength and to spare ; 
And turns the day's toils, 

Its troubles or joys, 
Just into playthings, 

Dolls, marbles, and toys. 



And I push right along 

Playing my game ; 
Humming my song 

And forgetting my pain ; 
Whistling or singing 

With the bird that's care free ; 
Just doing my best 

For mine, and for me. 

Then, let me whistle and whistle 

Or sing, as I will ; 
For thus can I better 

]\Iy mission fulfill. 
With heart light and gay 

Let me push on my way. 
Because with the birds 

I begin the new day. 




THE DAY OF GOLD, OF GOLD 



THE DAY OF GOLD 



As I sat one morning" in my old arm chair, 
Awaiting- my early breakfast fare ; 
And thinking what I might see the day, 
The great sun rose, to kiss the way 
IN^GOLD, IN GOLD. 

He seemed to say, "Good morning to you 
I've come to see you the workaday through ; 
God bless the world anew, anew. 
And keep you all the hours thru 
This day. This day of Gold." 

'Twas on a glorious harvest morn. 
The Gold in banks lay on the ground ; 
And all the world, a robe had found, 
A new rich robe, spread all around ; 
A robe of Green and Gold. 



And as the day rolled (jn in hours, 
He scattered flowers and flowers and flowers ; 
And poured His gold in perfect showers, 
On country grand, and temple towers ; 
In floods of Gold, of Gold. 

And all day long Llis chariot sped, 
With racing lightning overhead ; 
"I do my blaster's will," he said, 
"And by His wondrous law am led 
Thru seas of Gold, of Gold. 

"Now learn of me ye sons of men 
To shine, and do your best, and then, 
The world you too may flood with Gold ; 
As on vour earthly life is rolled, 
'Midst floods of Gold, of Gold. " 



And the Gold, in floods the sun did fling. 
And happy birds were all a-wing. 
And He seemed to say, "My wealth I bring 
To all mankind : and bid you sing 
With birds. This day of Gold, 
Of GOLD." 



O men! Call not these just common things. 
This cannot be since HEAVEN brings. 
This robe of Green, and the great sun flings 
All the sweets which Nature sings, 
'Midst floods of Gold, of Gold. 




lUWA'S MAJESTIC STREAMS 

That kiss the grain to golden ear 
And toss diamonds to the bloom. 



() R1\'ER, FAIR RIN'HR 

River, fair River ! Thou sweet flowing' streiini, 

1 love thy green banks ; in thy shadows dream 
Of what thou wilt do when lost in the sea, 
^\'ilt thou ever, O River, return unto nie? 

Thou hast language, I know, and beauty and art, 
Wilt thou tell me thy secret before we must part ; 
VVoukl'st thou fill my heart full of music, of song. 
As thru the green Ia:es thou wanderest along? 

Ah, methinks I can hear thee singing to me. 
As proudly thou flowest to thy home in the sea ; 
"I am beauty and life, perseverance and power, 
As I wing toward the sea, hour upon hour ; 
I am a friend of the world, of man and of beast, 
A postman, am I, of God's wonderful feast 
Heaven spreads, for the children of earth." 







THE DELLS 

"For well I kuoiu its tangled paths 
Where berries szveetest grow." 



LET ME TRAVEL THE TANGLED WAY 



I'm not asking God for a favored way, 

I seek no special car ; 
Let me tread with men the tangled palii 

Where the thorny places are. 
I ask no feast for me be spread 

Luxurious, special, grand, — 
Let me share the lot of the common man. 

And grasp his hardened hand. 

For oftentimes the sweetest bloom 

On thorniest bush is found: 
And the finest flower that ever grew 

Just blossomed from the ground. 
Food ne'er earned is food ne'er blest. 

For toil itself is fine ; 
And the richest store, like golden ore. 

Is found in flinty mine. 

I do not ask for days of ease 

To be carried on my way ; 
I only ask to share the joys 

That's in the common way. 



For well I know its tangled paths 

Where berries sweetest grow ; 
And of all the shine of this old earth, 

Its briery paths that glow. 

It's the wide, wide sea, where storms beat high 

That tests the sailor's skill ; 
I do not ask for a toy canal 

Outside the FATHER'S will. 
Yes give me the ocean of common life 

Where storms sweep wild and shrill ; 
There let me share with the common man 

The lot of the common will. 

For 'tis true that here in stormy ways 

Love grows, beautiful and fine, 
And love gives friendships, precious, true. 

And friendships are divine. 
Then spread no feast for me I ask ; 

Be this enough and grand. 
To share the lot of the common man 

And grasp his hardened hand. 




W'Jicrc our uiockiiig birds 
Thru beaks of brass 
With music fill the air. 



"THE MIMIC WATERFALL" OR A DAY \N Till': WOODS 



Just a <lay in tlie woods, 
woods, w.hcre the trees "'row 



Ah nic, .\li me ! 

The great bii_ 
and tall, 
Where the babbling stream o'er ijebblos white 

Make "The I\Iimic Waterfall." 



thick 



Where the souTs inspired mor'n I can tell. 

And my life filled with nature's thrill; 

Where the gorgeous bloom of lily ])ure, 

And the sweet wild daffodil. 

Where the bluebells tinkle their beauty fair. 

And violets their deep blue hue, 
\\'liere fragrance wild, fills all the air. 

Under the shadowed forest blue. 

\\'here the rustling leaf in the sweet soft breeze. 
Moves with the grace of the flying bird ; 

And where the squirrel scolds from the tree top high. 
At the dreamy, grazing herd. 



\\ here nature is dressed in her gaudiest robe, 
And Courts the springtime fantastic i)loom. 

And the grass is dancing with delight 
To the rays of the bright high noon. 

I lay me down in the cooling nook, 

And look up through the shadowed leaves. 

And wonder and wonder how God could crowd. 
So much beauty midst forest trees. 

I heard the birds with chatter and trill. 
And the whizzing, humming bees. 

And I felt the day. a resting thrill — 
Of the spirit of the woods and trees. 

O let me wander and wonder again, dear woods, 
A companion of the living and green. 

Let me idly dream by the babbling brook, 
"The Mimic Falls" of the running stream. 




W. MUMFOno, CHICAGO 




THOU SWEET IMESSENGER OF SPRING 

O Robin ! thou early messenger of Spring 
How dost thou know the woods shall ring- 
With life, e'er storm has scarcely ceased ; 
Who brings to thee this secret, new, 
That all life shall again pursue 
It's planting time, and Spring awake 
And all Nature break 
With gladsome joy? 

Art thou in touch with Him who knows 
And tempers every wind that blows? 
And calls the Seasons from their hiding place. 
And scatters o'er all the world His lace 
Of gold and green? 

O Robin ! thou sweet messenger of Spring 
Go build thy home, thy nestlings bring 
To decorate the WOODS. 



Then sing and chatter thine own sweet song. 
^^'e'll rejoice together that Winter's gone; 
And the charm of Spring o'er all is cast. 
And Winter's storm and cold is past. 
No chill shall now our way oppose 
For he who tempers the wind that blows 
Brings Springtime joy. 





IOWA'S WILD ROSE Tx\NGLES 



WILD ROSE STATE 



O IOWA ! 

Thou wondrous charniing "Wild Rose State." 

Fling open wide thy beautiful gate ! 

Float high th)' banner of the west, 

Of all the states to me the best ; 

Proudly wave thy Wild Rose sweet, 

Emblem where all treasures meet. 

Where lavish Nature lays golden soil 

At the feet of honest toil. 

As dripping honey from "Wild Rose sweet" 

Pour out thy riches at a Nation's feet. 

Fling out thy wealth like ocean wide ; 

And say, "Welcome, \\'elcome thou human tide 

FROM ALL THE WORLD. 

Welcome to my hills and dales, 

Welcome to my plains and vales. 

Welcome thou to fruit and vine. 

Thrice welcome, to my beauteous shrine 

Of 'WILD ROSE' sweet." 



Wealth, dripping wealth from forest tree. 

Wealth of beauty in wild bird free, 

XA'ealth of sunshine, wealth of shade, 

Wealth where rich coal vein is laid, 

JMeasurelcss wealth, in harvests great 

Are found through th\' wide o])cn gate. 

Yes, wealth and wealth and wealth. 

And over all, the wealth of health. 

Then come, O man, where treasures wait. 

And build thy home in the "WILD ROSE STATE. 

Then let me wear this Wild Rose sweet, 

(Emblem where all treasures meet), 

Alay its beauties charm my heart, my thought. 

And remind me. how lavishly God hath wrought : 

And strewn Flis gifts with bounteous hand 

Like Wild Rose bloom o'er all the land : 

And bids man gather these Harvests great, 

That lie 'neath the soil of the "Wild Rose State." 




T!ic riches of I rrwa hills 
That supply the mighty mills 
Where man like maijic 
Turns wool to gold. 



SILENT NATURE 



Did you ever tliink of the silence of God, 

Of His wondrous muffled machine, 
How Nature performs her marvelous task 

With scarce a sound between? 
No matter how massive the mis^hty gear, 

Or how huge the belts that Hy ; 
Though a world moves out and up and on. 

With its satellites passing by. 

From God's power-house comes scarce a sound, 

Though a million, billion suns 
Roll in splendor, through eternal space. 

And each his own circle runs. 
Not a variance of a single hair 

In a million, billion years. 
But on and on, in silence, bear 

Their freight of joy and tears. 

Scarce finest ear can catch the sound. 

Of snowflakes feathered fall. 
As God builds His miniature mountains 

And weaves laces over all. 
Even deepest sockets in hollowed rock. 

Are sculptured, by no harsh and grating sound, 
But musically chiseled, to water-chant, 

While centuries roll around. 

Yes, earthquake shock, and cyclone crash, rarely come, 
And then, as God's majestic gavel thumps. 

To call attention of a world grown deaf 
And lift man from the dumps 

Of earthy dullness, and inky blindness. 

To Nature's miracles, which around him lay 



Thick as falling rays of sunlight, 
Or as blades of sickled hay. 

Noise ? 

God makes no noise of blustering sound. 

Nature moves on rubber-footed tires, 
Smooth, as the rippling, tinkly stream 

Which the silent Soul inspires. 
Wonderful laboratory, of the blaster Chemist, 

Where in toil scarce whisper is heard. 
Where the SPIRIT life, in its wingless flight. 

Makes tame, the swiftness of the bird. 

Where fantastic fabrics are woven, in lacy leaf. 

And in the green of the waving grass. 
Where the purple-tasseled corn heads bow, 

As lover to coming lass ; 
Where the gentle meadows, all a-bloom, 

With flower and fragrance floats. 
And the feathery fern keeps rhythmic flutter. 

In its mimic petticoats. 

Ah, this is silent nature, as she pours her beauties out. 

And this the plan of Infinite love, to bring it all 
about ; 
Then list my Soul, be still, and know thy God, 

In the splendor of His bright earth days ; 
For everywhere do Angels tell of His sweet 

And quiet ways ; 
Go find HIM in this silence sublime. 

In ways quiet, yet joyous, grand. 
And know that when you pluck a flower 

You grasp your Father's hand. 




AN EARLY BIRD 



i\lY CO^nrON SUNRISU 



Viczi.'cd from the Dear Old Hoinc of My ChUdlwod 



Stretching", yawning-, slowly the night 

Rubs the darkness from his eyes : 

.\n<.\ the dim graj' creeps stealthily on. 

Transforming all, as the skies 

Hide away, for another day, the stars. 

The eastern heavens begin to burn ; 

And the fair fresh dawn points her rosy fingers 

Upward and overward, as she lingers, crying, 

"Make way, make way. 

For the mighty chariot of day comes on apa:e 

With fiery wheel of gold, to mold 

Anew the world." 

Like storm of dust thrown high in air. 

From the flying hoofs of a million, million horse ; 

The armies of heaven seem charging earth, 

Throwing great clouds of gold 

Behind, before, above, storms of love 

To bless the world. 

And, where the wild fier}'- mist its banners fling. 

And tempests of beauty roll and roll. 

The eagle mounts on bold pinion, soaring high. 

Its feathers crimsoned in solar fire ; 

And its strong heart throbbing 

With the exhilerating joy of a new fresh day. 

Nearer, and nearer comes this sunray army : 

Armored in gold, plumed in light. 

Until it halts, dismounts, kneels. 

Yea, kisses the earth, and each tiny blade of grass ; 

And says, "warriors of peace are we. Peace, Peace. 

And like one of old on missions of love 



We kiss the world." 

Soundless the tread of this wondrous Host, 

And softer the footsteps than falling clcwdrops; 

Silent, though grand beyond compare, 

This charging cloudburst of glory envelops all tiie 

Earth, 
And a new fresh day says, 
"Good morning to you all." 

The whole heavens is flecked with shafts of amethyst, 

Every leaf, and blade of grass, is diamonded with dew ; 

Beauty, divine, claims and charms my vision. 

The morning chatter of birds, entrance my ear. 

The reddening thunderbolt of glory of the Eastern sky 

Has bursted, and fallen in beauty and charm 

O'er all the ground. 

It seemed that Ophir had melted all his yellow ore 

In crucible, and spilled its golden wealth 

Out upon the WORLD, until every living thing 

Felt itself a millionaire, and even the birds 

Shook, from their tiny throats. 

The very liquid gold of Heaven. 

Ah this, my friend, is but my common sunrise, 

From the dear old home of my childhood. 

Yes, and 'tis yours, this wealth is yours. 

And thus the words are true, 

"Day unto day uttereth speech and night unto night 

Showeth knowledge," the all surpassing beauty 

Of this common world, and common days 

In which we live. 




THE BEAUTIFUL WAPSIE 
"One of the many" 



THE INDIAN'S FAREWELL TO THE WAPSIE 



O beautiful stream, where the wild birds screauT 

And the silvery fishes play ; 

Where thy music sweet, falls at our feet, 

From banks that are green and gay : 

Thou \\'apsie grand, of the Red Man"s Land 

Leap on, sing on thy way. 

But who would tell, we must bid farewell 

To thee, the pearl of the Red ]\Ian's pride. 

That we must fell the poles, which the wigwam ho'.ds. 

While the tears the red braves hide ; 

For thee Wapsie grand of the Red Man's Land, 

The joy of our Indian Tribe. 

But no warrior weeps, no matter what sleeps 

In his bosom, heavy and sore ; 

So farewell sweet stream, with Red Man's dream. 

As part of thy richest lore. 

Thou Wapsie grand, of the Red ]\Ian's land. 

For we'll see thy face no more. 



But in spirit's dream, () beautiful stream 
We see thee ripple and sing and play. 
Over pebbly stones, and Indian's lioncs. 
Pushing on thy billowy way ; 
O Wapsie grand, of the Red Man's land. 
By thy banks may we kneel and pray. 

O pale-face man, of the white tribe clan 

We leave our beautiful stream. 

Flowing over pebbly stones and Indian's bones 

To record the white man's dream ; 

O Wapsie grand, of the Red Alan's land. 

Flow on, while the wild birds scream. 

Pale-face write clear, for our \\'apsie dear. 
As she flows on to the rolling sea ; 
Let the white man's love be evermore 

A glory unto thee ; 
Thou Wapsie grand, of the white man's land. 
For thy face no more we'll see. 




THE DREAM OF SUMMER 



A DREAM OF SUMMER 

By John Greenleaf Whittier, my personal friend for a few brief years. 



Bland as the morning breatli of June 
The southwest breezes play ; 
And, thru its haze, the winter noon 
Seems warm as summer's day. 
The snow plumed Angel of the North 
Has dropped his icy spear: 
Again the mossy earth looks forth, 
Again the streams gush clear. 

The fox his hillside cell forsakes 
The muskrat leaves his nook. 
The bluebird in the meadow brakes 
Is singing with the brook. 
"Bird, breeze, and streamlet free ; 
Our winter voices prophesy 
Of summer days to thee !" 



So, in those winters of the soul, 

By bitter blasts and drear 

O'erswept from memory's frozen pole, 

Will sunny days appear. 

Reviving Hope and Faith, they show 

The soul its living powers. 

And how beneath the winter's snow 

LIE GERMS OF SL'^IMER FLOWERS! 

The night is mother of the day 
The Winter of the Spring, 
And ever upon old decay 
The greenest mosses cling. 
Behind the cloud the starHght lurks. 
Through showers the sunbeams fall ; 
For God, who loveth all His works, 
HAS LEFT HIS HOPE WITH ALL! 
— Courtesy of Houghton, M'Min 



Co. 




IOWA'S HEALTH HO.ME 

"Where health runs as free 
As the springs of the mountain 
Run free to th^e sea." 



BLOW SOFT WINDS 



Blow soft winds and blow and blow 
I know not wbence thou dost come or go, 
But this I know, thy kiss is sweet 
Like ros\- lips I love to meet. 
Thy gentle breeze that fans my brow 
Brings freshness, tho I can't tell how, 
And cheers me with thy gentle touch, 
Like hand of one I love so much. 

Blow, soft wind, and blow and blow 
Tho thy wandering way I do not know. 
Kiss thou the whitened fevered brow 
Lentil the life with health's aglow ; 
Kiss thou the seed from plant to bloom, 
Kiss thou the day from morn till noon, 
Kiss away the beating scorching sun 
Until his mighty race is run. 

Kiss out the heat, kiss in the dew 
As thou thy mission dost pursue ; 
Give life to flower, to bird, to tree. 
As sweet new life thou givest me; 



Then blow soft wind and blow and blow, 
I owe thee much as thou dost go 
To bless the world with purest air 
And give thyself to make it fair. 

Teach me to give and give and give 
And gently live and live and live. 
'Tis only when we kiss the world 
With life that's pure as purest gold, — 
When man can feel the tender touch 
Of kindly love he needs so much, — 
That my life to me can say "well done" 
And comfort come at setting sun. 

Then, blow, soft wind, and blow and blow 
Sweet breezes over green or snow ; 
Thro chilly deeds that almost freeze 
Be thou the sweet and gentle breeze. 
With kindly love fan my weary brow 
With tender touch to my sorrow, bow ; 
W^ith thy gentle zephers cheer my soul 
To joyous life, to reach the goal 
Of constancy. 




MY FRIEND CARLO 
M'^Jlli' ^n/^Tlnr ^1^'° "'"' ''■''f ^""''^'^"' ^""'' '" '"J^y '"' '""^•''•''-'^ friendship und 



MY TRUE FRIEND 



O he's only a Cur, so give him a kick. 

Not so fast, my good man, not so fast, 

When you abuse my dog you abuse my best friend. 

For he'll stay by to the last ; 

He'll lie hungry, and poor, just outside your door. 

And that for days upon days, 

And still wag- his glad tail, that says, he'll not fail, 

Tho his be hard cruel ways. 

O how Eve learned to love those liquid brown eyes 

That speak volumes, and friendly wag of the tail. 

For I know where to find him, like God's stars in 

the skies, 
And of all friends, he'll be the last one to fail. 

He loves when Em good, and he loves when Fm bad, 

And never changes his love with the days. 

No matter what comes, no matter what goes. 

He's my dog with the same friendly ways ; 

No matter to him, whether Em rich, or Em poor. 

He thinks I possess the whole Earth, 

For to him, Em riches, yes riches untold. 

And his Heaven, is the warmth of my hearth. 

Thou wouldst teach me dear dog what faithfulness is. 
What wealth, in the affections of life, 



How to love, and what the worth of a friend. 
El the midst of this struggle and strife ; 
Then listen, O men, abuse me if you will. 
But spare my dog with glad wagging tail, 
For of all the friends I have on the Earth, 
JNly dog is the last one to fail. 

And when I am laid 'neath the green willow tree, 
Laid low, neath the sod of the Earth, 
O remember my friend, my good faithful dog, 
Whose Heaven, was the warmth of my hearth ; 
You'll find him lying, by the side of my grave. 
And mournful, that once glad wagging tail. 
For of all the friends I have on the Earth, 
My dog is the last one to fail. 

Then when I am gone, don't call him a CER, 

And give him a kick in the street ; 

Just say a kind word, as tho it were me. 

And hand him a good bone of meat ; 

And some day, Em sura, there will be a reward 

For every kind act you have done, 

Tho it be, to my faithful old sorrowing dog 

After mv race has been run. 




IOWA BEAUTIES 
Wild lily pond where God kisses the water into blooi, 



HACK To COD WD HIS WORKS 



Turn backward () tide 

( )f Vdung- people, the pride 

(Jf America's hearths and her homes ; 

liack to Nature's sweet fountain 

Where health runs as free 

As the S])rings of the mountain 

Run free to the sea. 

Turn backward C) Splendor. 

To GARDEN AND TREE. 

Turn back from the throng- 
That would tempt thee to wrong ; 
Turn back to the hills and the dales 
Where thy fair locks are tossetl 
By the sweet summer breeze. 
And thy burdens are lost 
Midst the hum of the bees ; 
Turn backward O Splendor, 
To GARDEN and TREES. 

Turn back from the noise 

To NATURE'S sweet joys. 

To a life with GOD and His works: 



\\ here the niuncliing of herd 
liy the soft flowing stream, 
,\nd tlie song of the bird 
Like some fairy dream 
Forms loves jubilee. 
Turn backward () Sjilendor, 
To GARDEN AND TRICE. 

Turn backward, yes back 

From the dust and the smoke : 

From the struggle and .strife 

And the gall of the yoke ; 

Rack to the blossoms. 

The fruit, and the vine, 

]ia:k to the glory 

Of Maple and fine; 

A companion once more 

Of forest and sea. 

Turn backward O S]5lcndor, 

To GARDEN and TREE. 

Backward, ves backward 

To EARTH'S JUBILEE. 




SCARLET TANAGER. 
Life-size. 




IF I HAD PEN OF ANGEL 

Had I the pen of Angel, 

Dipped in ink of liquid Gold, 
I'd write the words of music 

That flood and flood my sopl. 
I'd write and write of visits 

The Infinite makes to me ; 
I'd paint in rarest beauty 

This calm and shoreless sea. 

I'd tell of singing voices 

With which my soul is rife. 
And all the inspiration 

That keeps a stir in life. 
I'd picture the wondrous glory 

Of the million worlds and more 
Around, within, above me, — 

Thick as sands upon the shore. 

I would write the splendid beauty 
God's Universe doth hold, 

If I had pen of Angel 

Dipped in ink of liquid Gold. 





THE CHRIST 

Whatsoever ye H'oiild that men should 
do unto you, do ye even so to them. 



•WHAT MADl'". III.M CRI-.A'I"' 



Behold, my friends, a ynulh, pure, .fitted, keen-eyed, 
And witli heart of gold, come forth in splendor, 
Fligh idealed, from Galilean hills. 
Lowly, He riseshigh, till all the world Me fills 
With the very soul of love. 

Garlanded with genius, the genius of the lo\'e of Truth, 
Quick-eyed to see the star-lit motives of the Soul, 
Or the inky blackness of the reign of night, 
That hid away a Loving God from sight 
Of earth beclouded minds. 

In grandeur, lie climbs and climbs the ideal way. 
Above the fog and clouds of ordinary day ; 
While men eke out their little lives, away 
From sight and sound of that larger world. 
Profound, and rich as God. 

Ah yes. He not only enters where God hath been. 
Rut where ITe is, and dwells, and tells 
Of startling brilliancy that shines for men 
Within the Soul, that deeper mind, and then 
Goes forth to bless the world. 

In Him were gardens, festooned terraces of fruitful 

vine. 
Hillsides zoned with God's rich olives and oleanders; 
The beauty of the shore-laced sea of foam. 
The orchards sweet, thro wh'ch He roamed. 
All must have taken root in Him. 

The sower with his seed, the familiar shepherd on the 

hills. 
The traveler on the dusty road, with weary feet. 
The temple grand, and choirs of lofty song, 
The wretched hunger of the motley throng, 
As thev blindlv slaved life nut. 



\'ea! (jod's sk_\', I lis Palestinian sky, cleai' and bright, 
-And Galilean hills, and Horeb's Mount, 
And the Great Sea of dazzling emerald. 
Whose sajiphire depths, brimmed with blue. 
Talked of I lis Father's ]iower. 

He was a child (jf God's world, and wurhb, 
The very stars of Heaven shone again in Ilim; 
The dust beneath His feet, the mighty highways, 
VMiere flying worlds do meet, were to Him 
But the tow-paths, bearing the impress 
Of His loving Father's feet, the plav-ground 
(^F IXFIXITY. 

Divine? .\h, yes, divine enough to be a rece]itacle 
(Jf God's unbound and unbounded universe. 
Divine enough, to Spell the Soul of man, 
And throw a charm e'en o'er human woe. 
And fill the heart with hope. 

Thus goes forth this Galilean youth. 

To bless the world with the presence of God's things: 

And thus ITe brings, to me. to you. to all mankind. 

The sweetness, which His Soul did find 

With God and Galilean Hills. 

He saw a tender Father's care o'er each living thing 

And everywhere ; 

And bid man trust, 'midst light or shade 

In this wonder-world, where God hath made 

All things, according to ITis will. 

Then rest O Soul, rest, and be still. 
Trust in thy heavenly Father's will : 
W'ork out His plan with loving cheer 
And remember. He is ever near to THEE. 
.As tf> sparrow's fall. 




When the liquid spring in the pasture jield 

Makes gladness for the herd 
And the stream goes dancing tozvard the sea 

To the music of the bird 






A SONG OF IOWA SPRINGTIME 



May I sing- you a song of the springtime, 
When the flowers are all a-bloom ; 
When the bees are hummin' in the trees 
And winter's frost has flown. 

When the liquid spring in the pasture field 
i\Iakes gladness for the herd, 
And the stream goes dancing toward tlie sea 
To the music of the bird. 

When the ground mole digs and roots anew 
In the richness of the loam. 
And the ant declares house-cleaning time 
Of her wintry gravelly home. 

I sing of the warmth of the rising sun, 
Of the green of the growing grass ; 
Of the bloom of pink on orchard bow, 
Like the rose of the blushing lass. 



I sing of the swish of the farmer's |)iow. 
Of the click of the planter's row. 
Of the sprouting grain on hill and plain, 
Of the joy of those who sow. 

Yes, I sing a song of the coming crop, 
Of the harvest's laden store ; 
For the joy of labor everywhere, 
Of the planter's Autumn ore. 

With thankful heart I take my place 
In the role of common life ; 
In gratitude I accept the gifts 
With which the world is rife. 

I sing of Nature's sweet supply, 

Of her music rich and grand ; 

Of the wealth of GOD in soil and tree 

Scattered all o'er the land. 



■^i.'Msl.^: 




MY DEAR OLD TREES 



MY DEAR OLD TREES HAVE FALLEN 



AFy dear old friends have fallen, 
Under whose branches of waving green 
In childhood 1 romped and frolicked, 
With scarce a care between. 
How I loved the dear old shadows, 
The massive trunks grown tall ; 
How little, little did I dream 
Aly friends would ever fall ; 

Or that I would push thru mighty years 
Like the flying speeding train ; 
And wonder how the time had flown 
As I longed for my trees again. 
How stately was their splendor 
How beautiful and grand 
With waving branches high in heaven, 
Like friendly, welcoming hand. 

How I dreamed of coming glory. 
How they urged, in growing tall, 
How little, little did I dream 
My trees would ever fall ; 



Or that storms would ever sweep my soul. 

And raze castles built in air 

With my trees as worlds, before me 

In their grandeur tall and fair. 

Not a cloud to mar niy vision. 
Not a mountain in my way, 
Just grow, and rise to conquest 
Thru one sweet and cloudless day. 
Now, how the scene has shifted 
Since those joyous childhood days; 
How different all the world has grown, 
How stern are Nature's ways. 

Now, I ask no baby pathway. 

To roll in shadows green, 

'Midst ease and pleasure playing 

With not a care between. 

But, with friendly tree and waving branch 

I'll take my share of storm: 

Believing in my Father's World 

And that no storm can do me harm. 




BOB-WHITE 
Bob-white, Bob-white, Bob-white 



BOr.-WHlTE — THE FARMER'S FRIEND 



Bob-While, Bob-White, Bob-White. 
Thou blessed bird 
Art thou saying to me good-night? 
"Sleep-tight, sleep-tight, sleep-tight." 
Yes I understand thy evening words, 
But in early morning, I have heard 
Thee whistle the same sweet strain. 

Wouldst thou have it always night? 
Or art thou glad for daylight bright? 
And just whistle the only song in sight: 
Bob-White. Bob-White, Bob-White? 

Dost thou wish us well at evening time 
With thy whistling song all in a rhyme? 
Then bid us wake with morning bright 

By thy cheerful song of 
Bob-White, Bob-White, Bob-White? 

Ah gentle bird, gladly, gladly, have I heard 
Thy whistle sweet as Bobolink, 
On fence post perched or fallen log 
Or with absent log, on meadow bog 
Whistling thy merry song so bright. 



Bob-White, Bob-While, 



-Wliite. 



Yes, Yes, I know thee, know thee well 

For thou dost often, often tell 

Thy name in whistling song; 

In dusky eve or morning light 

With cheerful whistle swee.t and Ijright 

Thou sayest, 

"Dost thou not know mv name, 

Bob-White, Bob-White, BQb-\\"hite." 

O sweet bird midst these working days. 
May I find thy cheerful, cheerful ways — 
And push midst tears, when faileth sight. 
By faith, as thou, just trust and whistle 
Bob- White, Bob-White, Bob-White. 

And when earth's toiling days are o'er. 
And my soul must seek a larger shore. 
May thy cheerful whistle sweet and bright 
Bid earthly scene a sweet good-night, 
In thy cheerful, glad whistling song, 
Bob-White, Bob-White, Bob-White. 




IVitli belted steel he spans the stream 

And stretches his highway with girded beam. 



THE BRIDGE 



I stand on the bridge and gaze, and gaze, 
And I think of man, and his mighty ways. 
As with belted steel he spans the stream, 
Or stretches his h'ghway with girdered beam, 
And laughs at difficulties, high and great. 
And opes at will, the wondrous gate. 
And sings, as he passes through. 

I watch the flow of the running stream. 

As midst playing sunlight its ripples gleam. 

Like mirrored silver, or firefly's play. 

In the twilight hour of the golden day ; 

And, as I behold the restless stream, 

'Midst the sunlight kisses or moonlight beam. 

It sings, as it passes through. 



Yes, I stand on the bridge and gaze, and gaze, 
And I think of God, and His wondrous ways, 
The charm of earth, with its harvests wide, 
And I think of the Race, as a human tide 
Passing on, and on, thru joy, or tears. 
By day, by night, o'er the bridge of years, 
May it sing, as it passes through. 

Let me ne'er, ne'er rob, of a single smile. 
Nor take from the least a thing worth while. 
Let me add, and add, as stream adds to sea; 
As this tide rolls on to eternity. 
Let me bridge with joy, this earthly span. 
And lighten the load of my fellow man 
As he passes, passes through. 




Give me back my old farm home where health and pleasure and toil make the sweetest 
dish of human life. 



kg 



GR'E ME HACK THE OLD FARM HOME 

O, my heart is hungry, and my sou! is sad. 

For the home of Nature, where the birds are glad ; 

Fm tired of the rattle and noise and din 
That eternally comes to me, shut in 
The City's deafening ways. 

Fm tired of gazing at brick and stone. 
Where scarce a soul is seen, or known ; 

Where its bustle and hurry and tumble and roll. 
Where nerve pays price in human toll, 
In City's costly ways. 

O give me back sweet Nature's scene, 

Where flowers and birds and skies are seen ; 

WHiere my soul finds rest midst lounging herd. 
And my life delights in the song of bird, — 
My sweet dear Nature Home. 



1 




WAITIXG FOR BREAKFAST 



MY DEAR BABY BIRDS OF THE WOOD 



What a family have I, 

In the dear baby birds of the wood ; 

And every one mine, and every one thine, 

And we wouldn't spare one if we could. 

A million, million in bush and in tree. 

Hidden in grass, and in rush of the swamp : 

How they chatter and cheep in one tiny hea]) 

In nest, just full of cute play and romp. 

Ah! I'm rich, rich in children and song. 

The whole day long. 

In my dear baby birds of the wood ; 

And every one mine, and every one thine. 

And we wouldn't spare one if we could. 

A million, million in bush and tree 

Hidden in grass, and in rush of the swamp; 



They chatter and cheep in one tiny heap 
In nest, just full of cute play and romp. 

By and by they venture abroad 

In the great big world. 

Just as happy as happy can be ; 

And still, chatter and sing, 

And everywhere bring 

Sunshine, so sweet and so free ; 

And everyone mine and everyone thine 

And we wouldn't spare one if we could, 

A million, million in bush and in tree 

Hidden in grass, and in rush of the swamp ; 

Until the world is delirious with song 

The whole day long, 

At the chatter and play and romp 

Of my dear baby birds of the wood. 



THE EARTH AWAKES 



Tlie Earth awakes from her winter's drowsy sleep, 
The tiny anemones begin to peep 

E'en thru the silvered snow. 
The nap of every living green is o'er ; 
And morn, beautiful and bright has come 
Once more, to bless the world. 

O Spring, sweet Spring, 

Who can describe thy beauty fair ; 

Fascinating for sight, sweet for sound, aromatic in air 

Combined to trance the Soul of man. 
Thy gentle balm (the vial of God's ointment) 
That gives healing fragrance to pastures green, — 

To flowers ; 

Sent once more to bless the world. 

\\'hence springs this startling brilliancy that throbs and 

beats, 
Pulsating by kissing sun's rays heat, as they swiftly 

come and go 
In every growing thing? 
Who stands beliind, beneath, this sea of sweetened 

green ? 
This wonder-scene that lies between winter's cold 
And summer's dusty heat? 

Talk of bewildering prodigality. 

What artist can paint one-millionth part 

This charming scene, this quaint 

Loveliness in bush and tree? 

Who spreads this dazzling grandeur 



As a common thing, before a gazing world, 

And carelessly doth fling 

Dripping beauty from every leafy bough. 

And can we not here behold a kind and lavish God ! 

Who in joy stirs living pigment 

From the very sod, and makes the clod 

Like magic, turn to green and gold? 

Who is so blind as not to find 

In Spring-time kind, a living Mind; 

A loving heart, that ever keeps 

In winrow heaps, his endless sweets for Man? 

We believe, yea must, that God hath made the rolling 
sea. 

And swings its tides, back and forth, for you and me. 
Between its rocky shores. 

And is not this a sea? A charming sea of green and 
gold? 

Of ribboned grasses, sun-gilded hills, and sun-kissed 
flowers. 

Rocked from winter's cold to summer's fascinating- 
bowers ? 

Ah yes, as mother rocks the cradle of the tender babe, 
Our Father God rocks the "sleeping life" that in cold 

is laid, until it wakes again. 
Yea, he wakes it, too, when its napping time is o'er; 
And bids it rise, under serenest skies, 
And come forth with Angel eyes. 

Once more, to bless the WORLD. 



OXLV A FI.OCK OF UFACKl'.lRDS 



Cliatlor away sweet liirds, cliatter away, clialter 
Let no cruel hand of mine hinder thy stay. 
Or cause thee to fall helpless, songless to earth 
And grieve and defeat thy promise at birth : 
Sing on, sing on. thy wonderful song. 
Chirp, chatter and sing, thy whole life long. 
I would not hinder thy glad refrain. 
Nor stop, nor stay, thy chattering strain. 
This wonderful music of God. 



Thou hid'st me reniemher. the love of niv Lord, 
And sheath in its scabbard, forever, the sword 
Of harsh word or thot, that might cruelly bring 
Harm to my fellows, or the birds as they sing; 
So now, and forever, call me friend of them all. 
As thru sweet cheery music, I hear the glad call. 
For L too, catch the joy of the song of the trees. 
As it wafts in its glory, on the soft summer i)reeze. 
The wonderful music of God. 



Amidst the high branches find tlmu. thy joy. 
I would not harm thee, neither annoy 
Thy charm in the woods, thy trills so glad : 
A\"hy, O why. should I make thee sad? 
Thou joy of the wild, thou sweet of the trees. 
Thou cheer of the world, of bright summer breeze. 
Thou companion of blossom, thou delight of my life, 
Thv song, and thy sweetness, call me from strife. 
As T list to this wonderful music of God. 



O yes! Man has a part, in this sweet lii|ui(l song 
< )f the birds, as they chatter the whole day long. 
\o Do. Re, Mi, no stops, and no holds. 
Yet strains sweet as Heaven everlastingly rolls. 
From the wee tiny throats, tuned to music divine. 
Just flooding the treetops of maple and pine. 
And turning the whole WORLD, into joy anrl delight. 
Lifting life's burdens, and scattering the night. 
With the wonderful ML'STC of GOD. 



^ 



*^^^ 



THE GOD TirAT ( )\-l',Rril*,.\RI ) 



One (lay as 1 walked thru the meaddw. 

And listened to ehattcr and soiij;': 

1 saw in the distaiiee a hunter, 

-\Iailecl and armored, with wrong-. 

The God of the bird must have overheard 

That sharp and cruel report. 

That turned a wild joy into a sickly toy. 

To satisfy man's sport. 

.\nd the crip|iled bird 1 overheard ; 

To its jjleading's the hunter was deaf. 

While just for fiui, he reloads his gun 

To follow it to its death. 

Tho struggling- hard the little wanderer is barred 

From its joyous flock of friends ; 

No heart seems stirred, no eye is blurred 

With tear, or human mercy lends. 

Yet 'midst the dark scene. I hear, I ween, 
A voice whispering- a tender word ; 



I am sure I heard a heart that was stirred : 
'Twas the heart of the God of the bird. 
That fatal shot, in that beautiful s])ot. 
Not only wounded the bird : 
But must have wounded the heart of Him 
Who has always overheard. 

O hunter? Why not rise, to rightly prize. 

Those living- speeding wings : 

Those pinions of power, God's wondrous dower 

And get at the heart of things. 

Why not rejoice in the w'ild bird's choice 

Of its spacious airy dome; 

And with hat give a cheer, as swift and clear. 

It niakes it w-ay toward home. 

Why not aspire, thyself, to fly higher, 
And follow the flight of the bird ; 
Until thou canst wing, and forever sing, 
Th)' wa}- toward the God that overheard. 



^^ 




IOWA'S WORLD OF PLEASURE 



IF I COULD HAVE MY WAY 



If T could have my way, 

I'd dry each human tear; 

I'd taUe away tlie human hurt, 

I'd kiss away the fear. 

No unkind thing should enter in, 

No strife or hurtful word ; 

I'd take away the knife that wounds, 

And leave the healing of my Lord. 

I'd drive away the strife that stings, 
From the careworn, weary heart ; 
I'd drop away the bitter things 
And only sweets impart. 
I'd give to every living soul 
A chance, the very best ; 
I'd take away the sobs, and tears, 
From the heaving sighing breast. 

Ah yes, if I could have my way, 
I'd let the light of hope shine in ; 
I'd make the path as clear as day 
For the soul to travel in. 



I'd touch the heart with tcnderol care, 
And kiss away its fears; 
I'd take away the human hurt. 
Leaving only gladdened years. 

I'd touch the mind with highest tliot, 

Thots big with Heaven's designs ; 

I'd stir the soul with bravest deed. 

The bravest I could find. 

I'd put my arms beneath the life. 

As Eagle doth her young, 

L'ntil each soul was taught to fly 

Away beyond the Sun. 

I'd scatter seeds, of loving deeds. 

Thicker than golden sheaves ; 

I'd give the best to every one, 

Yes, every soul that breathes. 

I'd make a heaven, of this old Earth, 

I'd change it, if I could. 

To the very Paradise of God 

The iiome of only good. 



"-v^^.^ 










laofkW 


gl 


MM| 




|g[r; 


■ 


!■ 






H 


■H 






H 


^Hb^!!';''');'^^ 


a^E^^I^^raS!^^^^^^^ 






mm 



]]'hcrc nature reveals her hidden wealth 
And lavislily does her part. 




THEY'LL NEVER EOROET 

Mfii may forget wliat we suffer, 
They cannot forget what we do ; 

Tho tears may never be measured 
They cannot forget if we're true. 

The heartache may be forgotten, 

But that it throbbed men can never forget, 
If its beatings were loving and tender 



Deep in some Hfe that's burdened 

Lingers the memory still. 
Of the man who does in the present, 

The work of a loving will. 

The world may forget our sorrow, 
Our pain it may never know ; 

But the work of today and tomorrow 
Will live the eternities thru. 




^&:ff ^3i^*--=:.»SSaiBeea»t«i^^ 



AN IOWA BAY 



Proud Rastiis, h'/io carried liis master on deeds of kindness more than fifty thousand 
miles, or twice around the world. He always manifested jealousy when another was hitched 
in his place. 



WHAT OP^ THIS BEAUTIF'UL SERVANT? 



What of this beautiful servant, O man; 

W'hd has lielped you pay for your farm, 

WIio has toiled, and toiled, thru weary years, 

To build that big- red barn : 

Who has never failed, tliru heat or cold. 

To do his faithful part ; 

What will you do, now he is old. 

And too feeble, to pull your cart? 

Will you forget all these faithful years. 

When he was proud, to bear your load. 

How he fed the babes, thru joy or tears, 

And never too long- the road ; 

Must he now be traded to the Gypsy-man, 

To be dragged, as only brute beast. 

To be starved, and pelted, as only men can. 

While you sit at the royal feast 

He earned by his honest toil ? 

Do you catch his eye, as he passes out 

From the home, he had thot forever his own? 

Do you see the glance at the old farmstead 

Now, as its comforts for him have flown ? 

Ah, methinks, if he could, he would shed a tear. 

As he is led down the old home lane, 

Led from all a horse knows dear. 

Led only to suffering and pain. 



Do you see him shivering, out in the cold. 

Haltered, to a wandering trader's truck? 

While you crawl in, to feathered nest 

And congratulate your luck, he brought 

Thru weary, toiling years ; 

Can't you hear him neigh, for the dear old home. 

The home he has served so well. 

Do you cast off this faithful friend, 

'Till his Earth-Heaven is only a Hell ? 

Remember my man, that for every stroke. 

Another will come to you. 

Just what a man sows, he surely will reap. 

For Nature's eternally true. 

And God will demand, of each cruel hand. 

An accounting, for the speechless brute ; 

And each will reap the harvest he sows, 

And gather his own planted fruit. 

Then be thotful, and kind, to th's beauty divine. 

Make life for this servant a gain ; 

Let no abuse of thine, cause him to pine, 

Or suffer a needless pain. 

For the very ball, you choose to throw 

Is the one that rebounds to you. 

And what a man sows, he surely will reap, 

For God is eternally true. 




MAN'S LARGEST NEED 

What man needs is completeness in Ideal, 

A Life that contains all his hopes, his utmost desires ; 

A Life that holds, in all its fullness, 

That which his Soul requires. 

Not only a machine, to do his work 

Belts and pulleys, to turn out his skill ; 

But a living Life, with a throbbing heart. 

That inspires a human will. 

A friend that loves, not wheels that turn 

And whiz with busy noise ; 

But a soul that breathes, and never leaves 

Another soul, without its hopes and joys. 

Yes, man's life needs life ; 

And naught but life can supply its hungry needs ; 

And naught but life can grow its fruit. 

Or battle down its weeds. 

Then take your belts, and flying wheels. 
Which naught but wealth produce ; 
But give to me a throbbing HEART, 
That lets my soul powers loose. 
Yes, give me a friend, a living friend. 
Who all my loves contain ; 
And if you'll only spare me this 
E'en losses will be gain. 




•^-Sts* 



OPPORTUNTTV 



Listen, tliou child of fear, 

OPPORTUNITY never dies; 

No star once seen, is ever lost, 

We may be what we might have been ; 

Only consent to pay the cost. 

Nothing" good is ever dead, 
Goodness, of all things, knows no decay, 
r>ut standeth ever ready to pay 
Fidl price for faithfulness. 

Thy IDEAL lives, else God is false. 
And creation but an empty thing ; 
Thy deepest self, of self, is real, 



-\nd toil and trust will in 
The blessing: send. 



the end 



Then hope on, cling on, push on, 

OPPORTL-NITY is NOW; 

E'en 'midst dark and shade, 

Only, do not shrink from keenest blade 

Of needed pruning. 

"TMYSELF IS OPPORTL'NITY." 
Thy splendid powers aroused. 
Thy wondrous gifts, rusting not. 
And only things forgot, — 
That did not serve thee well. 



^^^^ 




My 'cvcaltli I shan 



MY WEALTH I SHARE 



ATy wealth, my friend, my common wealth, I sliare 

^V^th thee and all mankind. 

The world is mine, is thine, is theirs. 

And this I ween, only to find 

How rich, how vastly rich I am. 

A world of royal air, fresh as the morning dew 

That sparkles, diamonds upon the grass ; 

A world of living sunlight, glorious and bright. 

Sweet? Ah, sweet as the blush of lass 

I love so dear, so very dear. 

A world of beauty, of harvests plentiful and rich ; 

A world of flowers, of bush, of bird ; 

A world of music sweet and charming 

As angels ever heard from heavenly choirs ; 

This wealth of mine with thee I share. 

These they are, attendants of human life. 

Robed ; yes robed with love, with good, with light, 

In the glory of him who brings each welcome day 



From out the shadowy night, 

Who swung the world from chaos into 



ite. 



A world of worlds I share with thee, 

A world of stars, of suns, of beauty all. 

Measureless as he who bids them swing. 

Yet marks the birdling's fall, guides the tiny wing. 

And paints the lining of the daisy's cup. 

Yea, and "my friend of friends" I share, with thee, 
The world's rich dower, the wealth of Galilee, 
The children's friend, whom wise men longed to see; 
This priceless wealth I, too, would share with thee, 
]\Iy friend, thy friend, the friend of Galilee. 

Yes. all I'd share, my love, my wishes best 

With thee, with all, till earthly paths are trod. 

And share, and share, until I tempt life's highest call 

To answer "yes" to God 

And bravelv climb toward Him. 




Where tlic silvery iiwoiiinniis ilaiiec w// '; habbliiuj brook 

As it laughs its zvay to sea, 
And I find for mine, home's co.:y nook 

Where the green vine clings to tree. 



w iii'.kh: ■nil'', cRi'.i'.x \i.\i". ci.ixc.s ti i Tki'.h: 



All. now \oii h;ivc tdiichcd tin.' sweetest spot 

Tlic old luirth o'er .i;avc to nic : 

^'ou need not talk of valleys !;ran(l 

Of flowers beyond the sea. 

Ciive nie my luniihlc cottaijc home 

Where green \'ine elinns to tree; 

And I'll ask no more of your j^olden store, 

For this is all, to me. 

Give me the roof where dwells my heart. 
The walls that hold my deathless own ; 
And if you'll only leave me these. 
In my humble cottage home, 
I yield the rest, the high, the low. 
For I'm rich as man can be; 
Only spare my little cottage home 
Where the green vine clings to tree. 

Here are joys, that touch the heavenly hills. 
And rest like Heaven yields ; 
Here the purest sweets of life abound, 
Here rosy, flowery fields. 
No. take your wealth, your golden wealth, 
For I'm as rich as man can be; 
Only spare my little cottage home 
Where green vine clings to tree. 

This the spot, the spot of charm. 

Where my burdens slip away ; 

And I gain a larger, newer life 

For a new and larger day. 

Here, my sweetest purest joys, I find 

As sweet as sweet can be ; 

Only spare my little cottage home 

Where green vine clings to tree. 



'Tis strange, but Irue, that here a spell 

l<ike Heaven f)'er life is thrown; 

When wearied, worried, tired out. 

The poor Soul reaches home. 

Ah yes. take your wealth, your golden store. 

The whole world )'ou can see ; 

I'ut S|)are my little cottage iKime 

Wliere green vine clings to tree. 

Give me my own. my very own. 
Who know me best of all ; 
And forever have a tender hand 
Beneath me lest I fall. 
Who bear me up on wings of love, 
And my burdened Soul set free ; 
Spare my humble cottage hon:e 
Where green vine clings to tree. 

Let storms beat high, let tempest rage. 
Wild winds sweep o'er the land ; 
I'm safe as birdling in the nest 
With my little cottage band. 
Here, care is sweet, and love is rest, 
For my own I have and free ; 
In my little humble cottage home 
Where green vine clings to tree. 

And here comes the shaft of gold. 
That lights up the heavenly way ; 
And fills with joy my cottage liome 
With a touch of heaven's dav. 
And when w'e're gone, and life is o'er, 
And the Soul for aye is free ; 
\\'e'll build another cottage home 
Where green vine clings to tree. 




"IOWA'S FLYING MACHINE" 



now T 'IM^.WTvLl'.D ROUND T[II'. WORr.]-) 



I dreamed and dreamed, a youtliful dream. 

When I'd grow big and tall: 

When T could travel round the world. 

And my eyes could sec it all. 

T laid my plans, and thought tlii'm out. 

Plans great and fine and large : 

When I could make the ocean's waves. 

The highway of my barge. 

When I could climb earth's mountains grand. 

And trace her valleys wide ; 

When I could stand on heights sublime. 

With the big world at my side ; 

The future seemed to say, "In joy 

I'll travel round the world. 

Neath every flag of man I'll ride, 

Neath every flag unfurled." 

Well, well. 

That youthful dream has slipped away, 

A dream so glad and free, 

And instead of traveling round the world. 

The world came round to me. 

I found a charm, the sweetest Soul, 

With cheek of rosy glee. 

And she seemed to think she'd found a world, 

A world of love in me. 

We built our humble cottage home, 
As neat, as neat could be ; 
There we lived as two happy birds, 
Nestling in God's forest tree. 



Here we found our s])lendid joys, 

Joys both full and free, 

And instead of traveling round the world 

The world had traveled round to me. 

Wv and 1)\'. a sweet babe came, 

The sweetest you could see; 

And every one who kissed it, said 

The dear thing looked like me. 

And still another, and then again, 

Until they numbered three ; 

And instead of traveling round the world 

FOUR \\'ORLDS had'traveled round to me. 

Then came the books and slate and ])en, 

And school days, glad and free, 

A world of new things coming in 

As glad as glad could be ; 

A house of toys and dolls, and carts ; 

Childhood, busy as happy bee. 

And instead of traveling round the world. 

Its wealth had come to me. 

They've grown up now. to splendid life. 

Life, rich and clean and free ; 

.\nd the finest trip that's taken now-. 

Is when they all come home to me ; 

And 'tis true. I'm growing old. 

But I still larger hopes can see. 

For instead of traveling round the world 

ALL WORLDS travel round to me. 




WHEN I SAID GOOD UYE TO GYP 

GYP was my dog, with whom I had pla^'ed 
In my childhood days, and often had laid 
My head on his soft coat of brown, 
As we played and romped roimd and round 
ISoy friends were GYP and I. 



We roamed together, over the big, big hills. 
And splashed in the stream, and thru the rills. 
And ronij^ed thru meadows green and sweet. 
And he always curled up at my feet 
When our romping trip was o'er. 

We went for the sheep, GYP and I, 
As the sun went down and night grew nigh, 
And shouted, and played, and romped and rolled 
Till all were safely in the fold ; 

Then GYP looked at me and smiled. 

Yes, GYP loved me. I know he did. 
For in his licjuid eyes it could not be hid. 
Companions by day, ah yes, by night 
For GYP would scarce let me get out of sight 
He loved me so. 

But now, boy days were almost o'er. 
And my heart grew heavy and sad and sore, 
As I thot that GYP and 1 must part. 
For soon I away to school must start. 
To college for four long years. 

GYP followed as I went out of the door. 
And really his heart, as mine, seemed sore, 
And down the path he tagged my heels, 
And you never can tell how a boy feels 
\\'hen his dog and he must part. 



Good-by GYP ! I tried to call, in glee. 
But in his eyes, I seemed to see 
A tear, just ready then to start. 
For he seemed to know that we nmst part, 
And he, be left behind. 

Good-by old friend, good-by, good-by ; 
And I left him there with one deep sigh. 
How I wished that dogs could to college go. 
How I'll miss him, for I loved him so, 
I\I\- friend of childhood days. 

So otT I went, with heavy heart. 
That my good dog GYP and I must ]5art. 
And he, with lonesome look, gazed and gazed, 
And the folks at home were all amazed 
At my lonesome, faithful dog. 

But one good day, I hast'ed up the lane 
To the old, old horiie (it had begun to rain). 
But GYP ! I wonder how he knew, 
For to my side he fairly flew. 
]\Iy lonesome, faithful dog. 

And O ! you ought to have seen the fun. 
How he frisked and barked and run and run, 
Tail all a wiggle, with living joy. 
For GYP again had found the boy. 
His playmate and his friend. 



